


Who Are You?

by gluedwithgold



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Artist Jared Padalecki, College, Dreams, M/M, Meant To Be, Mystery, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: Jared has been dreaming of a man's face for years, and when he decides to sculpt that face for a college art project the dream becomes more intense, and more real.





	Who Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 SPN_Reversebang.
> 
> SO many thanks to Amberdreams for her beautiful art prompt, being a dream to work with, and help in beta reading.  
> Please go view her art and give her lots and lots of love [here](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/532317.html).
> 
> As always, thanks to [non_tiembo_mala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala) and  
> [Dancing Adrift](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) for beta-reading, cheerleading, and being just generally awesome human beings.

The metal door shut with a loud clang as Jared flicked the light switch, flooding the studio with the harsh light of the overheads. He paused a moment, breathing in the scents of paint and clay, letting it wash over him, fuel his creative energy.

It was already nearly nine at night. Jared’s quick power nap after dinner had morphed into a full-on, three hour slumber. Long enough to dream that dream that’s haunted him for years. It was fortuitous, though, because when he pulled himself from sleep, he knew the subject of his project.

The first weeks of the sculpture class had been easy, simple. When the professor assigned the first major project – sculpting a realistic mask – Jared’s heart sank, his mind empty of ideas. Two weeks had already passed, and he still hadn’t made any progress on the project that was due in a month. But, upon waking today, it was obvious. His mask would be the face of the man in his recurring dream.

It always started the same way - cloudy, vaporous swirls of color edging in from the periphery to fill his field of vision. Jared would watch the muted colors shift and change, a sense of peace filling him. Then the face would start to emerge – sometimes just a peek of a freckled nose, or an ear. Sometimes it started with the man speaking, too distant to understand any words but enough to make Jared strain, trying to hear the smooth, deep voice better. Over time, the face would emerge more fully – it could seem like hours in dream-time – the colors pushed to the sides and Jared’s vision filled with bright green eyes, full lips and strong, stubbled chin. It was like watching someone from across a crowded room. The man was never aware of Jared, but Jared could watch, see his expressions change. The best times were when the man would laugh, his head tilting back and his eyes crinkling at the corners. Always too soon, the dream would fade. The colors would take over again, then shift to grays and finally disperse completely.

He’d been having the dream since he was fourteen, five years now. Sometimes he’d have it every night for a week, sometimes he’d go two months before he’d see the beautiful, mysterious man again. He always woke from the dream slightly confused, but peaceful. He never understood what it meant, had no clue who the man was or what he was supposed to represent. All he knew was that it was important – somehow.

Jared settled into his work station as he relived the dream one more time, unwrapping the rough start of his sculpture he’d managed to get through a few days ago. He’d blocked out the face over the mold, generalized the features, then gotten frustrated with his lack of inspiration and covered it for later. Now though, he could see the face hiding there under the clay, and he got to work.

 

***

 

Jared startled, pulled from the wispy haze of dozing, when a mug clattered against the table. He looked up to see Gen staring down at him with one eyebrow raised. The din and brightness of the coffee shop came back into focus, the last remnants of sleep slipping away.

“Not to be a nag or anything, but maybe you should go home and get some sleep.” Gen wiped her hands on her apron before slipping down into the seat across from Jared.

“Sorry, _mom_ – too much work to do.” Jared smirked and lifted the steaming cup of coffee to his lips and sipped.

“I don’t get it, Jared. Why are you spending so much time on this sculpture? I thought you were just taking that class to fill the requirement?” Gen reached out and turned the sketchbook in front of Jared to face her, checking out the graphite drawing that was nearly finished on the open page. “Drawing has always been your thing.”

“I’m not spending _that_ much time on it….” Jared flipped the page in his sketchbook back, revealing a completed drawing that Gen scanned over.

“Honey, you’ve been in the studio till three a.m. four days in the past week. I haven’t even seen you at home, all you do is sleep there then two hours later you’re up and gone again.”

“Well, I guess that makes me the perfect roommate then, doesn’t it?”

Gen looked up from the sketchbook with a glare.

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t slow down.”

“I’m fine, Gen. Really. And the project is due in three weeks, once it’s done I’ll be back to my usual annoying self, okay? Don’t worry.” Jared reached across the table, laying his hand over Gen’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Fine.” Gen sighed, then stood up. “But I’m cutting you off – no more coffee from me today. Maybe if I decaffeinate you, you’ll get some sleep.”

Jared gasped and widened his eyes in mock shock, picked up his mug and clutched it to his chest protectively.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Watch me!” Gen smirked, then leaned down and planted a kiss to Jared’s cheek. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Bye, Gen!” Jared called after her as she walked away. “Love you, too!”

He chuckled at the middle finger she threw up behind her as she walked back to the counter, then took a deep swallow of his coffee.

She was mostly right – he _hadn’t_ been sleeping much the past week, just catching naps here and there. Along with keeping up with his other classes, he’d been spending every moment he could in the studio, but his mask was taking shape, the face from his dream coming to the surface of the clay.

And every time he did sleep, he dreamt the same dream, that face appearing to him almost as soon as he drifted off. Two days ago, though, the dream had changed – for the first time in five years. Now, the face looked directly at him. It had always been Jared observing the man unnoticed, but now….

Last night Jared had slept for four hours, and in the dream the man had been talking to him. His voice was muffled, and Jared couldn’t really make out what he was saying, but he thought he could read the lips saying ‘who are you?’ The man’s expression was half confused, half freaked out. Then something caught his attention and he turned away from Jared, talking to someone Jared couldn’t see in his dream. It all felt like he was peeking through a pinhole, seeing something that was actually happening. Only now, the guy he’d been watching had found the peephole and was looking back.

 

***

 

A small droplet of water inched down the clay, leaving a damp trail behind it. Jared swiped his thumb across the cheek, catching the moisture and smoothing it up toward the temple and still-rough hairline. Lost in his own thoughts, Jared’s touch turned into a caress, the clay turning into the real man in his mind’s eye. His fingers brushed the surface of the face lightly, the man’s eyes slipping closed and leaning, ever so slightly, into Jared’s hand. He heard – or thought he heard – a quiet sigh, a barely-there exhalation of breath, of tension releasing. And then a whisper – ‘I just want to know who you are.’ The words were breathy, but clear, and sent a shiver down Jared’s spine.

Jared leaned back, eyes roving over the sculpture in front of him. He started to raise his hand to push his hair out of his face, but caught himself, glancing at his muddy, clay-covered fingers. He reached for the towel on the bench next to him, cleaned his hands off then grabbed a bandana from his bag, tying it around his head to keep the hair tucked back.

It’d been two weeks now, working on his dream face obsessively. He was starting to think he was losing it. The more of the face he revealed in the clay in front of him, the more alive it seemed to become in his head. The dreams hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slowed. Every time Jared drifted off to sleep, _he_ was there. Every day the details of the face became clearer. Every freckle was now defined, every whisker of his scruff, every long, curled eyelash. And every day, Jared had to refine these new details in his sculpture, adding a slight downturn to the end of a crinkle around the left eye, or new line to the corner of the lower lip. It was taking over his life.

And it wasn’t just the details of the face. He could hear the man breathing in his dreams now, could understand every word he spoke. Jared was starting to feel guilty, like he was spying on someone real. Details of the man’s life were coming out, picked up through the snippets of conversation he’d hear in his dreams. His name was Jensen, he was twenty-three – four years older than Jared – and a physical therapist. His best friends were Danneel and Jason, he loved hanging out at bars listening to live music and drinking beer, and Danni was constantly nagging him to get up and sing the songs he’d written with Jason on stage, but he didn’t think he was good enough. Jared agreed with Danni, because he’d heard Jensen sing the other night and was enthralled by the smooth, deep voice.

Jared shook his head to bring himself back to the present, to clear his thoughts of Jensen. It was all just an elaborate imagining – he _knew_ that – and yet he couldn’t help thinking... it had to be the weeks of minimal sleep and pushing himself that was making him lose his mind. It couldn’t be real. He just needed to get this project finished and these delusions would go away. After he slept for three days straight.

 

***

 

_“Just tell me who you are!”_

Jared woke with a start, sitting up in bed with his breath caught in his throat. He glanced around the room, sunlight streaming in through the slats of the blinds at an afternoon angle, and exhaled. Jensen was pissed.

The dream had been quick this time, Jensen’s face coming into focus faster than ever before, the furrow between his brows deep with anger and frustration. He’d started out calm, asking ‘who are you?’ then waiting. When Jared didn’t – couldn’t – respond, he got angrier, his voice rising, repeating the question over and over until finally he yelled, jolting Jared from the dream and from sleep.

He threw off the covers, glancing briefly at the clock to register how much he’d slept, quickly dressed and headed out the door. He had to get to the studio, get this damn mask finished before he lost his mind completely.

 

***

 

Lack of sleep. That’s all it was. Once he was finished and caught up on rest, he’d be fine. Just a few more hours and he’d put this damn mask in the kiln, then paint it, turn it in and be done. Then everything would go back to normal. It was just exhaustion.

Because Jared was sure he didn’t _really_ hear Jensen’s voice behind him in the studio. It was four in the morning, there hadn’t been a soul around for hours. Everyone else who wasn’t unhealthily obsessed with their projects was fast asleep elsewhere. And, of course, Jensen wasn’t real.

Jared turned up the volume on the stereo, glanced around the vast, open room to make extra sure he was alone – the overhead lights were burning brightly so there wasn’t even a shadowy corner where someone could hide – then turned back to the mask, continuing the tedious task of poking pinholes in the clay where he’d insert the eyelashes after it was fired.

He’d sculpted the hair and eyebrows meticulously, but the eyes needed special attention. He could get the irises right with paint and epoxy, he was sure – but the lashes needed to be real. He could have taken less time with all of it. Could have skipped the hair altogether, could have been done a week ago. He’d still fulfill the requirements the professor had set out, still get a high mark. But this obsession wouldn’t let him. For days now he’d been warring with himself, saying he was finished one minute, then thinking of something else that needed to be done the next. Tonight, though, he was sure he was done. Just a few more tweaks….

He was slowly running his finger across the leather-hard clay of the lips, lost in a daydream – a simple, quiet daydream where he and Jensen were curled up in bed together, naked but warm under piles of blankets, silent except for their breath. Jared was tracing Jensen’s lips, his index finger running along the fullness of the bottom lip, his thumb gently caressing the cheek – when his phone buzzed and yanked him back to reality. He let his eyes linger on the mask a moment more before he reached to the workbench to see who was texting him.

 

_Gen:_ **_You better not still be at the studio or I’m gonna come down there and kick your ass._ ** _5:25 am_

Jared rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on his jeans before tapping out a reply.

_Jared:_ **_I’m almost done. For real. Getting ready for the kiln._ ** _5:26 am_

_Gen:_ **_Do you see what time it is? Jesus Jared!_ ** _5:27 am_

_Jared:_ **_I know. Seriously, I’m going to put it in the kiln then I’m coming home._ ** _5:28 am_

_Gen:_ **_You better!_ ** _5:28 am_

_Jared:_ **_Promise. Anatomy class is cancelled - I can sleep all day._ ** _5:29 am_

_Gen:_ **_If I don’t see your ass in bed when I get home from work, I’m kicking it!_ ** _5:30 am_

_Jared:_ **_Yes, mom. <3 _ ** _5:30 am_

Jared shook his head, smiling, as he set his phone back down. He looked over the mask one last time, and finally, _finally_ saw nothing more to do. Another half hour to prep it and get it into the kiln for twelve hours. He figured he’d probably sleep most of that time, but he’d leave it until tomorrow. Then painting and finishing touches and he could put this dream man behind him.

 

***

 

Jared slinked into the classroom quietly and slipped into a seat in the back by the door. He was just a few minutes late, but Professor Morgan had already started talking. He’d overslept, still not caught up from the last month of late nights and missed sleep. Today’s class was the last he’d see of his mask, though – Morgan would be spending most of the time critiquing everyone’s work, handing out grades, and then Jared could forget all about it.

It’d be some time before Morgan got to his mask – going alphabetically always meant he was right in the middle – so Jared let his eyes slip closed and just listened to Morgan talk. He was sure he didn’t fall asleep. Positive. He could repeat the last three sentences the professor had said. That’s why Jared’s insides turned to ice when he heard Jensen’s voice.

_“I’m not crazy, Danni! I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m perfectly sane. I just keep seeing this guy!”_

Jared’s eyes popped open and he inhaled sharply, sitting up straighter in his chair. He glanced around to check that he hadn’t disturbed the class, then relaxed and retrained his focus on Morgan and the row of masks displayed on a table at the front of the room. Quietly, from behind him, he could still hear Jensen and Danni talking, though without focusing on the voices it became a murmur he could almost ignore.

He was starting to wonder if he’d chosen the wrong major. Maybe he should have gone with writing if his brain was going to concoct these characters out of thin air. He smirked to himself, imagining what his parents would say if he announced he didn’t want to be an artist anymore. All those years of arguing about it, the demands to find a career to ‘fall back on’, the begging for art supplies. They’d be overjoyed… until he said writing was his next choice. He could just see their disappointed faces. He almost wanted to do it just to see the reaction.

Nevermind the fact he’d never written a word and couldn’t keep himself from drawing on any and every surface he came across. No, art was definitely his voice, and Jensen was… well he didn’t know what, but he was more than just a dream.

Maybe Jensen was his dream man. Maybe he’d created Jensen to get to know what kind of guy he wanted to be with. His sparse string of boyfriends over the past six years since he came out hadn’t been exactly shining, so maybe he was just figuring it out a different way – instead of randomly dating, he was making up the right guy.

Jensen really could be perfect for him. A little older, but not too much. Not completely a creative type, but enough so maybe he’d understand Jared. He had gorgeous eyes and a great laugh, and he was undeniably kind – Jared had overheard him talking for weeks now – he definitely had a good heart. He just… wasn’t real.

A shudder ran up Jared’s spine when the realization hit him – he’d been falling for Jensen, his made-up, figment-of-his-imagination dream man. That’s why he’d been so resistant to sleep the past couple weeks – he was in love with Jensen.

And it scared the crap out of him.

Just like whenever any relationship he’d ever been in got too serious….

Jared groaned quietly. He wasn’t single because all those guys weren’t right for him, he was single because he always ran away. And this thing with Jensen – this imaginary friend, boyfriend, whatever – he couldn’t run away from it.

Jensen was always there, whenever he closed his eyes.

He resisted the urge to get up and walk out of the classroom, shifted in his seat and refocused on the critique going on up front, pushed all those thoughts out of his head. Morgan was talking about Matt O'Brien's mask, so his would be next. Just a little while longer, and he could be done with Jensen. Maybe he’d smash the mask to bits after class to really be rid of him.

That thought made his chest ache.

“Mr. Padalecki,” Morgan said, sliding the mask of Jensen’s face to the center of the table and scanning the room. “Where are you?”

“Here.” Jared raised a long arm up and waited for Morgan to spot him before dropping it back down.

“This is stellar work, Jared. I’m impressed.” Professor Morgan smiled and nodded at Jared. “Could you talk a little about your inspiration? Your process? How much time did you spend on this?”

“Well,” Jared said, then cleared his throat. “I lost track of how long I spent on it, but it’s gotta be close to a hundred hours? And my inspiration… well, it’s a little strange.”

“There’s really no such thing as strange in the art world,” Morgan said with a grin, then motioned for Jared to continue.

“Well, the face is something I dream about. I’ve dreamt about it for years, just this floating face – sometimes just staring, sometimes talking or laughing. So I guess a mask was the best way to express the image, since all I’ve ever seen is the face – just like a mask. I don’t know, it seemed to fit. And my process… well, I just kept refining. Every time I thought I was done, I’d see another detail I needed to add, and I kept going until I didn’t see anything else missing. That’s all.”

“Well, that attention to detail shows. You’ve achieved a remarkably life-like effect. On the technical side it’s near perfect. You’ve also managed to create something evocative. The simplicity of a face with no other context can be difficult to express with any emotion – an expression, sure, but true emotion and personality is harder. But here you’ve managed to do it. Looking at this mask, you can feel the range of emotion in the face. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Jared said, feeling his face heat up at the praise. He expected Morgan to go on, pick out some faults or areas that could be improved, just like he always did, but he didn’t – he just moved on to the next mask, leaving Jared sitting there stunned. He sat through the rest of the critiques, half paying attention to them and half counting the minutes till the three hour class was over and he could go get coffee.

“Good job on this mask project, everyone. We won’t be starting our second major project until after the winter break, and I’ll explain it in detail before then, but for now start thinking in terms of abstract. Have a good weekend.” Morgan dismissed the class, and everyone began shuffling around, gathering their things to leave. As Jared was pulling his jacket on, he heard Morgan again. “Jared, do you have a minute?”

Side-stepping through the chairs against the flow of exiting students, Jared made his way up to the front of the classroom where Professor Morgan was waiting.

“Jared, I just wanted to reiterate how impressive your work on this project was. You clearly put a lot of time and effort into it, and let your inspiration guide you. I want to include the piece in the winter art show.”

“But…” Jared had to take a breath before continuing. “The art show is for seniors, I thought?”

Morgan grinned.

“It’s not limited to seniors. It’s juried by all the professors in the department, from all classes. It’s not often that students produce work good enough for the show until their senior year, but it does happen.”

“Wow. Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“You can choose whether you want the piece to be available for sale or not. There are usually some gallery representatives at the show. Prices don’t go too high, but students do make sales. It’s your choice, though, so give that some thought. I’ll email the details to you.”

“Okay, great. Sounds good.” Jared felt like he was stuttering, even though he wasn’t. “Thanks again, Professor Morgan.”

“Don’t mention it.” Morgan smiled and gave a pat to Jared’s shoulder. “Have a good weekend, Jared.”

When he was finally outside in the fresh air and the fog over his brain cleared, Jared was equally excited and terrified. It wasn’t the end of Jensen, after all.

 

***

 

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing, Jared!” Gen was practically bouncing next to him as they walked into the gallery, but Jared just couldn’t be as excited as she was. She didn’t know what he’d been through with this damn mask.

It had taken a week after it was done for things to go back to normal, for Jared’s dream to return to being _just_ a dream. It was still as vivid as it had gotten while he was working on the mask, but at least he wasn’t hearing Jensen outside of sleep now. And he was still having the dream every night.

He could handle having the recurring dream, but as the gallery opening got closer and closer, Jared got more and more anxious. What if things got weird again? He could just envision freaking out in the middle of a packed art gallery, getting hauled away in an ambulance and sent to a psych ward because he was hearing voices.

He knew he wasn’t crazy, though. There was just something about that damn mask, something… magical or… okay maybe he was a little crazy. But he was terrified it was all going to start again as soon as he got close to it again.

Jared had opted not to put the mask up for sale during the show. Not only was he unsure if there really was something odd about it, something that would maybe transfer to someone else if they took it home, but there was something personal about it. Not to Jared, but… to Jensen. Which was just as crazy as hearing Jensen’s voice.

“Yoo-hoo! Earth to Jared!” Gen was shaking Jared, fingers wrapped around his elbow and concern in her eyes.

“Um… sorry, guess I’m nervous.” Jared laid his hand over Gen’s where it rested in the crook of his arm, gave her a reassuring smile. “Let’s go get a drink, that’ll help.”

They made their way across the floor to the bar in the corner laid out with small plastic cups filled with wine, along with platters of cheese, crackers and fruit. Nothing fancy, no bartender, just a college gallery show. But a little alcohol would take the edge off. Jared handed Gen a glass, then swallowed down one of his own in two gulps. He picked up another and turned away from the table, in time to catch Gen’s concerned look. He shrugged.

“Told you – I’m nervous.”

“I don’t know why, your mask is amazing. And you’re not even selling it, so you’ve got nothing at stake.” Gen sipped her wine and looked around the room.

“First time jitters, I guess,” Jared muttered, shrugging. He wasn’t about to tell Gen the real story.

Since they’d arrived a little past the official start of the reception, it was in full swing already. The large room, broken up with partition walls, was full of people milling around, looking at the artwork and settled into small groups talking. Not really Jared’s preferred way of spending a Friday night, but he was obligated since his piece was in the show. He just hoped he didn’t end up having to talk to many people about it.

Professor Morgan was across the room, and when he met Jared’s eye, he smiled and lifted his drink in a silent toast, and Jared returned the gesture. A few feet away from Morgan, Jared saw his mask, hung on the wall with a gallery light shining down on it, casting shadows that, from this angle and distance, gave the face an eerie vibe.

“There’s my mask, I should probably go stand by it, at least for a little while.” Jared downed the rest of his wine. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll find you in a bit. I’m gonna check out the rest of the show.” Gen said, handing Jared another glass of wine before taking a second for herself.

Jared made his way to the other side of the room, pausing briefly to say hello to a few professors and classmates he knew. His palms were sweating by the time he reached the section of wall where his mask was. He was half expecting it to come to life, jump off the wall and start talking or something.

But it just hung there. Up close the lighting wasn’t creepy, it just emphasized all the minute details Jared had spent so much time on. It actually looked peaceful, and Jared was grateful he didn’t immediately start hearing things. He relaxed, finally, and just watched the people circulating around the gallery.

 

***

 

Halfway through the reception, Jared was standing a few feet away from his mask, talking to an old professor. He’d been hearing praise for his work all night, and the constant barrage of compliments was making him anxious. Accepting praise was never his strong suit. He was exhausted from smiling and thanking everyone, and just wanted to duck away, breathe for a few minutes.

His conversation with Professor Beaver finally started winding down, and he excused himself as tactfully as he could before getting sucked back in with another topic. He ducked his head, and made his way toward the back where the restrooms were. He pushed open the door to the men’s room just as someone else was pulling it from the other side.

Without looking up, Jared muttered ‘excuse me’ and quickly stepped inside, allowing the other guy to step out.

“No problem,” the guy said, and walked off down the hallway. A cold chill feathered up Jared’s spine. That voice. He knew that voice. He darted out the door again, racing around the corner to the long hallway, just in time to see an arm disappear around the corner and back into the gallery.

Jared shook his head, exhaled sharply, and returned to the restroom. He was being ridiculous. The man in his dreams wasn’t real. Jensen was just someone Jared’s imagination cooked up. Maybe the voice was someone he’d heard somewhere – a waiter or barista, someone he’d talked to enough to get the voice in his head, but not enough to place it to an actual person. And Jensen’s face – that could be the same thing, someone Jared saw back in high school, someone he found attractive and latched onto, even though it wasn’t anyone he’d ever known. All the details about Jensen’s life? Just Jared’s overactive imagination having fun, getting him to be creative when he was blocked. That’s all this whole thing was. He wasn’t crazy, there was nothing magical going on. He was an artist, a creative person, and sometimes, that creative energy just goes a little haywire, that’s all.

He stood in front of the sink, staring at himself while he mentally debunked everything that had been going on. He took in a deep breath and pushed it out slowly, then bent down and splashed some cold water on his face. He steeled himself for the next hour of the reception, dried his hands and face, then headed for the door. He could get through this, then go home. He’d watch bad TV and drink beer until he fell asleep on the couch, and tomorrow all of this mess would be over.

 

***

 

Jared rounded the corner back into the gallery and headed toward his mask. The crowd was starting to thin, people trickling out after seeing everything they wanted to see, so the one man standing up close to the mask, staring intently, stood out. He was still fifteen feet away, but the sight made Jared’s heart pound and a tingling shiver run through his whole body.

The man examining Jared’s mask so intently… looked just like Jensen.

He couldn’t move, the shock freezing him in place, but Jared watched the expression on ‘Jensen’s’ face as it changed. It went through various iterations of shock and disbelief, then wafted through fear before settling on anger. He was leaning in to read the information tag below the mask when Jared finally was able to move again. He slowly put one foot in front of the other, making his way toward the man to give him the explanation he was obviously owed.

Jared’s mind raced, filling in what he would say to the guy. It was subconscious – he must have seen him somewhere and remembered his face, and it came out in his art. It was a lame excuse at best, but there was no way Jared was going to tell this guy he had been dreaming about him for years. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Jared picked up his pace and walked up to the guy, arm outstretched to offer a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Jared,” he said, trying his best to smile in a non-threatening way. “Jared Padalecki.”

The man’s eyes grew wide, then his brow furrowed and his lips tightened.

“You’re the artist?” he said, pointing up at the mask and barely containing the anger Jared could see under the surface.

“Yeah, that’s me. Listen, I–”

“You want to explain to me why my face is on a wall in an art gallery?” The containment was slipping, fast.

“I know, I know…” Jared started, holding his hands up, placating.

“Are you a stalker or something? I mean, what the fuck?”

“Listen, I know how it looks–”

“Yeah, it looks like–” The man cut himself off when his eyes met Jared’s, his face going pale. “You. It’s you….”

All the anger drained from him, replaced by confusion and fear.

“What–” Jared was confused, now, too.

“I’ve been… this is insane, but I’ve been _dreaming_ about you… your face. Who are you?”

“I… I’m… what?” Jared took a half-step backward, his hands trembling and a trickle of sweat trailing down the center of his back. This… this couldn’t be happening.

They both stood there for what felt like minutes, staring at each other, eyes locked, mouths slightly agape. Jensen was the first to break himself away, clearing his throat.

“I’ve never even been to an art gallery, I was just walking past and felt like I had to come in. I don’t know why. But….”

“You dreamt about me, too?” Jared said, finally finding his voice for something more than stuttering.

“For months now. This weird, surreal dream that’s just… your face. These weird swirls of colors around it, but just your face. And I can’t ever hear you, but you talk – like to other people, you never talk to me. Every night, the same damn dream, only you’d get more tired and stressed and I’d want to help, but you could never hear me....” Jensen ran a hand down across his face, taking a deep breath.

“I… I… is your name Jensen?” Jared was trembling all over now.

“How did… yeah, I’m Jensen,” he said, his face paling again.

“I’ve been having the same dream… for years.” Jared sighed. “Only I _can_ hear you… well, I never used to be able to hear, but since I started working on the mask everything got more clear, more intense… I thought I was going crazy… I still might be.”

“How the hell…” Jensen scratched at the back of his head. “This is insane.”

“I know, it’s… it’s fucking _weird_.” Jared wrapped his arms around his chest. “Did it feel… I don’t know, important? The dreams, did they feel like they meant something?”

“I told my friend about them. Told her I thought they were maybe a vision or something, and she just called me crazy.”

Jared sighed and looked around the gallery that had continued to clear out.

“Do you want to go somewhere? Coffee, maybe? So we can sit and figure this out?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said, taking a step toward the door. “I think we should.”

 

***

 

The two block walk to the diner was filled with terse, banal conversation. They exchanged basic information about themselves – they were both from Texas, Jared was a sophomore in college, Jensen was a physical therapist (which Jared already knew, but didn’t let on, to avoid freaking him out even more), their ages, favorite football teams. It wasn’t until they were both seated in a booth with coffee in front of them that they grew silent, neither of them quite knowing how to bring up the subject again.

“So…” Jensen said, spinning his mug in his hand. “You have any idea what this could possibly be about?”

Jared chuckled.

“I really don’t. I thought it was something like my subconscious working out some issues – you know, personal stuff. But… obviously that’s not what it is, because you’re real.”

“Danni – my friend I told about the dreams – she said something similar, some crackpot theory that I was imagining my perfect man.”

Jared nearly choked on his coffee.

“You… I mean, that’s what I thought, that was the issue. My brain was figuring out what I want in a guy.” Jared felt his face heat up, could imagine how red it was. Jensen leaned back in the booth as he looked up from his coffee, making eye contact with Jared.

“What if… it’s totally batshit, but what if that’s what it is? Some freaky, psychic ESP connection?”

“Like subconscious internet dating?” Jared smirked.

“I guess. Fewer dick pics than Grindr.” Jensen shrugged.

“Well, there was this one dream where you were obviously–”

“I don’t want to know!” Jensen cut Jared off, covering his face with his hand. Jared couldn't help but laugh, relaxing for the first time since he’d run into Jensen in the bathroom at the gallery. Jensen tilted his head, looking at Jared. “It really is you. Those dimples….”

Jared felt his face flush again while he ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at Jensen, met his green eyes briefly before darting his gaze down to his coffee cup.

“Maybe,” Jensen started, then shifted in his seat, cleared his throat. “Maybe we should just forget about why and how, maybe we should just… give it a shot?”

“You mean… like, date?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s the weirdest ‘meet-cute’ story ever, but, you’re gorgeous and, well, I kinda like you already, so….”

“I… well, I’ve liked you, too, for a while…” Jared watched Jensen’s eyes widen. “I mean, from my dreams. And you seem so... _you_ , so… yeah, I guess. Why not?”

 

***

 

It was another couple hours, plus burgers and fries and apple pie, before they left the diner. Their conversation got awkward for a few minutes after deciding to give dating a try, but then they slipped into one of the most comfortable, fun first dates Jared had ever been on. Their easy banter continued on the walk home to Jared’s apartment, and only slowed when they reached his front stoop.

“Danni is gonna freak the hell out when I tell her about this.” Jensen shook his head, grinning.

“Yeah… I have no idea how I’m gonna explain to Gen how I ended up dating the guy I sculpted.”

“I think maybe I have the easier side of things.” Jensen laughed.

“So, this was fun. Weird, but fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve never had such a good time on an ESP-fueled date before….”

“Dork.” Jared smiled, tilting his head. “I’d definitely like to see you again.”

“Absolutely. I’m… I’m glad we met, Jared.” Jensen reached up, setting his hand on Jared’s bicep before leaning in closer. Jared could feel the way Jensen was holding his breath, too, before he leaned down slightly, pausing just a moment to feel Jensen exhale, his breath warm against Jared’s mouth. They both inched in closer, slowly, until their lips brushed, slight electric tingle flowing between them. Then closer still, lips pressed firmly together, a moment passing with both of them statue still before moving again, lips sliding against each other, their arms moving up and tangling their bodies together. Jared’s chest was fluttering uncontrollably, excitement mixing with a sense of relief, finally feeling those lips he’d stared at, touched in clay, saw in his dreams for so long – finally feeling them warm and alive against his own. They kissed for full minutes, keeping it chaste even though Jared felt like his whole body was going to vibrate into a million pieces. When they slowed, they pulled apart by tiny increments, coming back together for one more quick peck, then two, and three, then each of them took a reluctant half-step back, eyes locked.

“I should… I should go,” Jensen said, rueful smile crossing his lips as he rubbed his hand up and down Jared’s arm before finally backing away. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“You better,” Jared said, smiling as he took a step back, toward the stairs. “Night, Jensen.”

 

***

 

_Six Months Later_

Jared groaned as he rolled over and slapped the snooze button on the ungodly-early alarm clock that had dragged him from his dream. His normal, run-of-the-mill dream where he was witness to an all-out war between bands of clowns and midgets. It was refreshing, really.

“Jensen.” Jared muttered. The grunt beside him didn’t leave him confident Jensen was actually conscious, so Jared tried again. “Jensen, you’re gonna be late.”

“I like being late.” Jensen’s voice was muffled, his face was pressed into the pillow. Jared slipped his hand under the blankets and found the warm skin of Jensen’s bare thigh. He slid his fingers up, slowly and gently, until he found the bottom curve of a perfectly rounded ass cheek. Then he pinched. “Ow! Fuck! Okay, I’m up! I’m up!”

Jared giggled as Jensen threw the covers off and sat up, then grumbled as he stood and shuffled his way across the bedroom to the bathroom. Jared yawned as he watched, appreciating the view, and thinking he might take another sculpture class next semester, because he had just the right subject for a nude figure. He could just imagine the griping he’d get out of Jensen if he even suggested that. Jared chuckled to himself as he got out of bed, threw on some sweats and made his way out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

He was standing at the kitchen bar, sipping at his steaming mug when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a damp head rested between his shoulders. He felt the light brush of a pair of lips against his skin there, and his eyes drifted across the apartment to the mask that hung on the wall. They probably would never know how it all happened, what kind of magic it was between them that drew them together. But they both agreed – in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it happened at all, and they were both happy that it did.

 


End file.
